Ramone and Rhonda Willis began to walk away. As they passed the nearby squad car, the uniformed officer pushed off it and spoke.
“Detectives?”
“What is it?” said Ramone, turning to the face the patrolman.
“I was just wondering if any witnesses have come forward.”
“None as of yet,” said Rhonda.
Ramone read the nameplate pinned on the uniformed officer’s chest, then looked into his blue eyes. “You got a function here?”
“I’m on the scene to assist.”
“Then do it. Keep the spectators and any media away from the body, hear?”
“Yessir.”
As they walked into the garden, Rhonda said, “A little short and to the point, weren’t you, Gus?”
“The details of this investigation are none of his business. When I was in uniform, I never would have thought to have been so bold like that. When you were around a superior, you kept your mouth shut, unless you got asked to speak.”
“Maybe he’s just ambitious.”
“Another thing I never thought of. Ambition.”
“But they went ahead and promoted you anyway.”
The body was not far in, lying in a plot off a narrow path. They stopped well short of the corpse, mindful of altering the crime scene with their presence. A technician from the Mobile Crime Lab, Karen Krissoff, worked around Asa Johnson.
“Karen,” said Ramone.
“Gus.”
“Get your impressions yet?” said Ramone, meaning any footprints that could be found in the soft earth.
“You can come in,” said Krissoff.
Ramone came forward, got down on his haunches, and eyeballed the body. He was not sickened, looking at the corpse of his son’s friend. He had seen too much death for physical remains to affect him that way, and had come to feel that a body was nothing but a shell. He was merely sad, and somewhat frustrated, knowing that this thing could not be undone.
When Ramone was finished looking at Asa and the immediate area around him, he got up on his feet and heard himself grunt.
“Powder burns prevalent,” said Rhonda, stating what she had observed from seven feet away. “It got done close in.”
“Right,” said Ramone.
“Kinda warm out to be wearing that North Face, too,” said Rhonda.
Ramone heard her but did not comment. He was looking out to the road, past the spectators and the uniforms and the techs. A black Lincoln Town Car was parked on Oglethorpe, and a man in a black suit leaned against the passenger door of the car. The man was tall, blond, and thin. He locked eyes with Ramone for a moment, then pushed himself off the vehicle, walked around to the driver’s side, and got under the wheel. He executed a three-point turn and drove away.
“Gus?” said Rhonda.
“Coat musta been fresh,” said Ramone. “I’m assuming he got it recently and was showing it off. Couldn’t wait to wear it.”
Rhonda Willis nodded. “That’s how kids do.”